


Enmity and Amity

by Sed



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: Furious and unable to sleep, Kira decides to work out her frustration on adeservingconvenient target.





	Enmity and Amity

**Author's Note:**

> This is a PWP. The extremely unlikely circumstances go hand in hand with that.

_“But you’re not a Changeling.”_

It was all she could think of; her frustration and pain, and the rage that she wanted nothing more than to hurl at Odo until he _understood_ what he had done, because it certainly didn’t seem like he was going to realize it on his own. But she couldn’t see Odo—she couldn’t even get near him while he was wrapped in the Founder’s coils. What made it so much worse was that Kira couldn’t simply pin it all on the presence of another Changeling. Odo had made the choice. _Odo_ had broken his promise to her, and sold out everyone he ever claimed to care about or…

Well, it didn’t matter what Odo felt about her anymore, apparently. She was just another _insignificant solid_.

Her head was too busy to leave room for sleep. Kira threw the blanket aside and swung her legs down over the side of the bed. She wanted to hit something. No— _someone._ What she really needed was to take her anger on someone who deserved it, but since Odo was busy discovering his people’s horrifying penchant for apathy, and Weyoun was already looking for reasons to start rounding up dissidents following Rom’s arrest, she was out of options. Dukat had certainly earned a good beating and then some, but it would probably wind up costing her more in the end thanks to his deal with the Dominion, and then there wouldn’t be anyone left to fight for Rom’s release.

She tried to forget the way her stomach had turned when she’d found the security office empty. Or how much Damar must have enjoyed hauling Rom off to the holding cells. She could almost imagine his smug sneer as he shoved him in and activated the force field.

A thought occurred to her then: Damar had a face that practically _begged_ to be hit. Maybe Dukat would frown and huff when he learned that she had visited some well-deserved vengeance on his bootlicking lackey, but maybe he wouldn’t. And that was good enough for her.

After quickly slipping into her uniform and toeing on her boots, Kira practically stomped out into the corridor and headed for Damar’s quarters. His were only a few dozen meters down the same section of the habitat ring as her own, in rooms that had previously belonged to Dax. Thinking of her friend’s space being invaded by someone as arrogant and _stupid_ as Damar only infuriated her that much more, and soon enough her walk to his quarters had become more of a determined march. By the time she arrived her temper was in full fury, and she slapped the door panel with nearly as much force as she had attacked Odo’s. He was, after all, what had started all of this. They all shared in the blame.

It took Damar a few seconds to answer. Kira could hear the muffled sound of his clumsy feet stumbling around the room inside before the door slid open and Damar stood, shirtless and disheveled, holding onto the door frame with one hand to keep his balance. He opened his mouth to speak—probably to ask what the hell she thought she was doing at his door at that hour, but Kira didn’t give him a chance. She pushed past him and planted herself in the center of the main room with her hands on her hips and a dark look on her face that dared him to do something about it.

Damar was waking up quickly. His brow ridges drew together, first in confusion, and then Kira could see his anger start to work its way through the sleep that still hung around him like a cloud. He stepped up to her and made an attempt at intimidation, but with his bare feet he was only just her height in heels, and the effect of his bitter stare was somewhat diminished.

Meanwhile, the fire in her blood was practically screaming for Kira to throw a punch. Backhand him. Grab him by the hair and knee him in the face— _anything._ Damar was so close she could hear him breathing. She knew she could take him down with laughable ease; she’d done it countless times before with Cardassians twice his size. She _wanted_ to hit him.

He stared at her, and she stared right back, and past that she somehow managed to move her hands. But they didn’t fly toward his face, or reach up to strike him somewhere vulnerable—instead, her fingers found their way to the front of his pants, and with a quick, sharp tug, she unclasped the catch.

 _What the_ hell _are you doing?_ a voice shouted in her mind.

Damar’s eyes widened a fraction, but he was either unable or unwilling to look down to confirm for himself what she was doing. He still seemed caught somewhere between confusion and the instinct to fight. Only when she began to reach inside the loose fabric did he finally react; his hand came down swiftly on her wrist and stopped her, and for one terrible second Kira remembered where she was, and why. She started to pull away, but Damar held her so tight that the pressure made her wrist ache. When he finally let go it was to take her by the arms and pull his mouth against hers.

 _Stop this,_ she urged herself. _Before it goes any further. Before you can’t take it back!_

But it was already too late for that, wasn’t it?

His palms were warmer than she expected, and they slid down the length of her arms to wrap around her back. Kira opened her mouth when she felt the tentative brush of his tongue along her lower lip, but her focus was on the hand that had reached down to cup her backside. Damar, at least, seemed to have worked past his own misgivings, whatever they had been.

He held her close, and Kira could feel him pressing hard against her. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she should have been infuriated at his nerve. His fingers kneading at her skin should have disgusted her. And the tongue that seemed so at home sliding along hers should have been enough to earn him a swift and painful reminder of just how much she despised him. But there was a heat in her that she was finding it impossible to ignore; she _wanted_ this.

_Why?!_

While Damar’s hands roamed her body and his hips rocked against hers, Kira soundly shoved aside the voice of reason pleading for her to stop, and reached up to take hold of the catch at the back of her uniform. Years of practice made it so easy to remove the tight, red fabric, and even as she did that she was already kicking off the boots that gave her a slight height advantage over him.

Damar released her from the kiss long enough to watch as Kira freed herself from the last of her clothes. He said nothing. His eyes explored her figure as selfishly as his hands had, and then he was on her again; one arm wrapped around her waist and the other holding the back of her head as his mouth covered hers. His fingers dug into her hair while he kissed her, and Kira couldn’t find it in herself to care. The feeling of her bare skin against his was all she could think of—all she would allow herself to think of. In the midst of it all she could still hear the voice that cautioned her to stop now, but it was losing its strength.

When Damar’s hand left her back and slipped between her legs it was all but obliterated. Kira turned aside one thigh to grant him better access, and the feeling that surged through her when his fingers made contact was achingly euphoric. Her hips moved of their own accord, urging him on—a wordless request Damar seemed more than happy to oblige.

It seemed as though they might keep going that way until one of them came to their senses and put a stop to it, but then Damar suddenly withdrew the fingers that had been so skillfully tormenting her. He pushed her back, stumbling past her discarded uniform and boots, until Kira felt her backside collide with a table. It was covered in various items related to station business, but he reached past her and swept an arm across the top to clear it. A moment later he had hoisted her up onto the slate gray tabletop and urged her onto her back. He wasn’t looking at her longingly; his eyes never even met hers. He simply spread her legs and pushed into her, and Kira was unable to stop the cry that escaped her even as she rushed to cup her own hand over her mouth.

Damar wasted no time. He held her in place, his much larger hands gripping her hips tight. With only seconds to allow Kira to adjust to the change in sensation, he began to move, pulling her onto him even as he thrust forward into her. The table put up even less of a fight than she had; Kira reached out to hold the edge with her free hand, distantly aware that if the whole thing went over she was definitely going with it.

Everything about the situation was wrong, and yet all she wanted was more. More touch. More of _him_. She wrapped her legs around his waist, but Damar seemed to have other ideas. He grabbed one of her ankles and lifted her leg up to his shoulder, instead. Kira gasped at the sudden change in angle, to say nothing of the unfamiliar feeling of his neck ridge against her leg. But all of that was gone in seconds. Damar used the new position to drive himself deeper, leaning down over her and somehow finding a place inside her that felt even _better_ than before. He held the far edge of the table with one hand and gripped her thigh with the other, and that seemed to give him more than enough leverage to destroy the last bit of composure she had left. Somewhere between mindlessly reaching down to touch herself and realizing with a pang of arousal that Damar was _watching her_ as she did it, Kira abandoned her attempts to keep silent. She bit her lip, but that didn’t do much to cover the groan that worked its way up from her center like a bow drawn across strings wound too tight.

Damar had bent his neck to fix his stare on her fingers as she worked herself to the edge, and though he never stopped moving, he seemed transfixed by the sight. When she began to topple over it Damar shuddered and his pace faltered for just a moment. It was only seconds before he found his rhythm again, but by that point Kira was already on the way down from the high of her climax.

And just like that, the voice was back.

_What have you done?_

With a strangled sound, hitched and ground through clenched teeth, Damar reached his own limit. Kira’s breath seized in her throat as she felt him let go and finally stop thrusting as he came, and past the rapid rise and fall of her own chest she watched him in silent shock. When it was over he remained where he was, bent over her and still _inside_ _of her_ , until the shaking in his arms subsided and he seemed able to move again. That was when he looked up and caught sight of her horrified expression.

He shook his head—if she had been able to think clearly she might have seen the same panic and confusion in his eyes, but Kira was well past the point of rational thought. Lowering her leg, she sat up and began to shove at his shoulders, trying to move him. Damar scrambled to get out of her way. He was still pulling up his pants when she sat up straight and took a look at herself, at the state she was in. That was when the reality of what they had done truly began to settle on her, and the weight of it was nearly unbearable.

She practically threw herself from the table, reaching for her uniform and pulling it on at a speed she wouldn’t have thought possible before. Without even bothering to do more than pick up her boots, she took off for the door, stopping only to whirl around and point a finger at the center of Damar’s chest. “This _never_ happened,” she growled. “Do you understand me?”

His jaw worked a few times, and Kira could see him struggling to hold back his temper. He was confused—of _course_ he was confused. She had barged into his quarters in the middle of the night and thrown herself at him. And why?

_WHY?_

Damar was rapidly beginning to work through his own mix of emotions and lay everything on anger, instead; he narrowed his eyes, and she could see the muscles along the side of his jaw flex as he clenched his teeth.

“Answer me,” she demanded.

His furious gaze cooled just a bit, and he straightened up and took a glance at the empty space beside her, as though someone else stood there, and he was answering them, instead. “ _What_ didn’t happen,” he muttered. His fists tightened and fell slack again, and he continued to look anywhere but at her.

That was good enough. Kira turned back to the door and smacked the panel. Once she was out in the hall she used her boots to hit the corresponding button on the other side and close it, cutting her off from Damar and whatever the hell it was that had just happened.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “It _didn’t_ happen,” she whispered with all the false conviction she could muster.

It would never come up again. Damar might have been an idiot, but even he knew better than to push her that far.

And if he didn’t, she would _teach him_.


End file.
